


in the palm of your hand

by ndnickerson



Series: hold me up [2]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Marriage, Miscarriage, love-bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the love-bingo prompt "solace." Ned and Nancy try to find a way past the loss of their unborn child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the palm of your hand

The house is small, but it has a backyard and a kitchen window that looks out over it. The privacy fence is tall and Ned had already picked out the place where he would have put a swingset, if they were here that long. The small back bedroom with the large window would have been perfect for a crib and a rocking chair. Maybe it still will be.

Nancy doesn't want to live with him before they are married and Ned understands that; he understands her, he's been learning her since they fell in love, and it's hard for him to believe that he managed to convince her to marry him once, much less twice. She is his but she hates belonging to anyone. She loves him but she hates being vulnerable. And when she was in the hospital during her miscarriage, that was all she was, vulnerable and broken and so scared, and he had never seen her that way.

It's been two months since she would have been his wife, since what would have been their wedding day.

He takes her to dinner and they talk about wedding plans. The engagement ring is back on her finger and it's strange, how weightless he felt when it wasn't there, but for a stretch of time everything felt unreal, and a part of it is unreal still. They aren't dead, snowed in and frozen together in a shack in Alaska. They're actually really speaking again when for a while he was afraid they never really would again, that he had fucked this up too much, said the wrong thing when she called him from the doctor's office to give him the news that he was going to be a father.

They have water with dinner but wine back at the house they would have moved into together after returning from their honeymoon. It's sweet and dark against his tongue, and the light in her eyes... oh, for both of them this happiness is tentative but he can't help it, he needs it to last.

He needs her. He wants her like breathing, like burning, and the uncertainty of their relationship after their canceled wedding drove him crazy. She had been his and then suddenly the ground beneath his feet wasn't firm anymore; she was no longer pregnant, his ring was no longer on her finger, and they just hadn't talked about it until it was like a wall between them.

They're on the couch together and he tilts toward her and she tips her face up, her eyes low-lidded, peering at him from beneath darkened lashes. Her skin feels faintly damp under his thumb as he slowly drags it down the line of her throat, and he feels her swallow, feels the flush and glow the wine has given her under the pad of his thumb. They haven't been together like this since Alaska. They only had stolen hours and secret nights together before the doctor's news linked them irrevocably, and while they were so briefly engaged, every night they had spent together had been almost breathless, both of them afraid and neither of them quite ready to speak it.

He had been afraid that the only reason she had agreed to marry him had been the child growing inside her—and she had feared that was the only reason he had even asked.

And he understands her fear. If they had been ready for marriage, they would have been engaged or married before she was pregnant, so the inverse had to be true; if the only reason they were discussing marriage was her pregnancy, then they weren't ready without it. Which meant they weren't truly ready at all.

But he has wanted her for so, so very long, and risking their relationship when he wasn't sure she was ready—he hadn't wanted to do that, has never wanted to do that. It just seemed fortuitous, and when she agreed to marry him, Ned found himself looking forward to it. Singing their baby to sleep, buying toys, playing together. He wanted to be a father. He still does.

In some small way, for that brief span of time, he was.

Nancy wraps her long legs around him as they slide to the couch, their hips matched and tight, and when her shirt comes off—oh, they're playing with fire, and he knows he should use a condom with her even though she's on the pill, but oh how he loves the slick heat of her sex enfolding his when he's inside her.

He takes her to the bed that he still thinks of as theirs, gasping and desperate and lightheaded from the wine, and they scramble to take off each others' clothes. She moans with pleasure when his lips graze her breasts, and she grinds against the heel of his hand as he cups the join of her thighs.

It's over too soon, but it's always over too soon for him. He loves the feel of her wrapped around him, the way her nails dig into his shoulder or his arm, the way her body twists under his, the way she begs him and whimpers her pleasure. She still stays wrapped around him after as they pant their breath back, and he draws his fingers through her hair and then strokes his thumb against her temple, gently, over and over.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?"

"Did... did you have a name for her?"

When Nancy was resting, after the procedure was over and all hope was gone, once the doctor told Ned that Nancy would be all right, he had told Ned that their baby was a girl. And then Ned had walked into his fiancee's hospital room and looked into her tearstained face and felt his heart break all over again.

"I didn't," he whispers. "But I would have asked if you wanted to name her after your mom."

Nancy takes a deep breath and he hears it shiver as she starts to cry, burying her face against his bare chest, and he holds her tight. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Shh," he whispers, kissing the crown of her head. "Shh. I'm sorry, Nan."

"Sometimes..." Nancy sniffles. "Sometimes I... I would talk to her... and I would tell her I would try to be the best mommy I could for her... but she would have the best daddy, and we loved her so much... And then she was gone, and I never even held her..."

The first time they made love, after he knew she was pregnant, he had touched her belly, kissed it, his eyes glowing. Not even half a year ago. He had spoken to their baby when she was just a tiny cluster of cells in Nancy's abdomen, and while he had seen the fear in Nancy's face, he had seen the tentative happiness, too.

"Oh, Nan..." He can feel her tears, cool against his collarbone, as she trembles in his arms. "I wish we could have met her. Held her. Even... even after."

She sniffles again. "You would have been so amazing with her," she whispers.

"And you would have been too," he murmurs. "I know you were afraid, and I was too... but there's so much love in you, and she was a part of us, and we loved her so much."

She lets out her breath in a soft shivering sigh. "I don't know how I'm going to get through this," she whispers. "The day I was going to give birth to her. The day we would have met her."

He touches her cheek and when she moves, in the dim light of the bedroom, she sees the pain in his eyes and it brings another wave of tears to her own. "I know," he murmurs. "I hate so much that you had to go through that..."

"And you did too," she whispers, blinking a pair of tears down her cheeks. "It was all so fast, Ned..."

He kisses the tip of her nose. "Sweetheart... is it okay, now? Because I don't want to make you do anything you don't want..."

She gives him a small smile. "It's okay," she whispers. "I just hate that... oh, God, I remember the way you looked at me after you knew..."

He brushes his lips gently against hers. "And we'll have that again," he whispers. "I know we will."

"But, what if..." She swallows, lowering her eyes. "What if there's something wrong with me..."

"The doctor said you were fine," he says softly. "You're okay. It just didn't work out this time. And even if something happens... we'll find another way, if you want to do that." He takes a deep breath. "I love _you_ , Nan. Not what we might have, not what we could be; I love you. And as long as we're together, we can handle whatever comes... even if it might hurt."

She kisses him so sweetly. "I love you," she whispers. "And I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand what that meant."

\--

On the day their daughter would have been born, Ned takes his fiancée to his parents' house. She cried when she woke up that morning, and she wears no makeup; she feels fragile, and Ned's strong grip on her hand makes her feel just a little better. His parents are in the living room, and while they smile at her, they don't say anything; there is nothing anyone could say to her today to make this hurt any less.

She walks with him to his parents' backyard. The sun is high and bright overhead, and the day is so mild and beautiful that it just makes her hurt even more. She doesn't want to feel joy. And while she knows it will pass, that eventually a part of her heart might heal, she knows she will never forget what they almost had.

At the edge of the patio, near a freshly-dug hole, she sees a small cherry tree with miniature white and pink blooms. She looks over at Ned and his fingers tighten against hers, briefly.

"I wanted to do something for her," he tells her softly, and Nancy's eyes well up again, her sight blurring as she turns into his arms and buries her face against his chest. "And we can plant it together, and when we need to talk to her... we can just come here."

He holds her as she cries, her throat aching. She can't even whisper his name; she can't even form any words. It just hurts.

Together, both of them too moved to speak, they take the small tree out of the flimsy plastic pot and lower it into the ground, moving the earth around it until their bare hands are black with dirt. Nancy sits in front of it, and when she touches one of the small petals, her face crumples again and Ned reaches for her, holding her as they both cry.

After several minutes, Nancy makes a soft noise and sits back, wiping her eyes, knowing she's streaking her face with dirt and not caring at all. She blinks another pair of tears down her cheeks and looks at the tree again.

"Hey," she whispers. "Hi baby. I miss you." Her voice breaks as she begins to cry again. "I miss you so much, and I love you. I wish I'd known you. I wish I'd... been able to hold you, to see your face, just once..."

She hangs her head and Ned picks her up, cuddling her against him, and she rests her forehead against his neck and lets herself cry.

"Hi baby," Ned says softly, and sniffles. "I loved you from the moment I knew about you, and I will always love you. Always. Your mommy and I love you so much. No matter what, you will always be my first little girl, and I know one day we'll meet you, we'll be with you again."

She doesn't know how long they hold each other, gently rocking together. When Edith brings them a box of tissues, Nancy wipes her face gratefully, but she still doesn't want to leave. Edith's eyes are red-rimmed too. It isn't just their child that Nancy and Ned lost; it was her father's grandchild, James and Edith's grandchild, too.

Nancy suddenly hopes with every ounce of her strength that her daughter is with her mother, that she will take care of their baby until they can be with her again.

Ned cups her cheek, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Are you all right?"

She takes a deep breath and gives him a small humorless smile. She's not all right. It will get better, she knows that, but for today it can't.

"Thank you," she whispers. "This means a lot to me, Ned."

He nuzzles against her for a moment. "At least this way it's like... like she's not all gone."

"Yeah," she whispers, and she just closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart.

\--

On the day the doctor confirms it, Nancy calls her husband at work, looking down at her wedding and engagement rings, and she can hear the happiness in his voice; anyone could. She can hear the undertone, too, because she shares it.

Her in-laws' house isn't on her way home after work, but Nancy makes the trip anyway. She calls to let Edith know she's dropping by, and after a mug of tea and a handful of crackers—her stomach is feeling a little uneasy—Nancy excuses herself and goes out to the patio. And that's where he finds her. She's pulled one of the wrought-iron chairs over to the side, and she's just gazing thoughtfully at the cherry tree. It's taller than it was when they planted it, and while it's not as tall as either of them yet, it will be.

"Hey," Ned murmurs, and Nancy rises to put her arms around her husband. She's afraid to tell anyone else yet, even though she knows Edith might guess, thanks to her visit to the cherry tree.

It doesn't feel like sorrow, anymore, to look at it, to touch the pink petals and think about their daughter. They will always miss her, but Nancy came today to tell her that she has a little brother or sister on the way, that they will bring their baby here to see the tree.

"I love you," Ned murmurs, his lips pressed to the crown of her head. "I love you so much, Nan."

"And I love you," she whispers. "I'm just so afraid..."

He kisses her forehead, the tip of her nose, then softly brushes his lips against hers. "I am too," he breathes. "But my heart is so full it feels like it could burst."

At that, her lips finally curve up into a very small smile. "Mine too," she whispers.

"Let me take you home." He kisses her gently. "I'll buy you anything you want for dinner, and rub your feet before we go to bed, okay?"

She nods, and they join hands, but they stand silent and still before the tree for a moment longer.

"I love you, Katie," Nancy whispers, and touches a low branch. "I'll come see you again soon."

Ned kisses her temple. "We both will," he whispers. "We all will."

Before she moves, Nancy takes a long, deep breath. She can smell the cherry blossoms in the air.

She doesn't want her only connection to their daughter to be grief. The scent of the blossoms is sweet, and reminds her of sunshine and summer, and the bouquet she carried on the day she married Katie's father. The day she married the love of her life.

Grief tried to take that away from her, but refusing to let herself be happy, to experience joy again, that won't bring Katie back. That will only hurt Nancy even more. And Katie, wherever she is, is beyond all this pain.

Nancy smiles and wipes one last tear away. Katie is no stone angel, still and lifeless. Katie is with her always, and she is so glad she has this, that together she and Ned were able to come through the loss. That she can come here and breathe in the fragrance and remember without drowning in the pain again.

He laces his fingers through hers and kisses her again, and this time his lips linger against her skin. When he gently reaches for her hip, his fingertips brush her belly, and Nancy closes her eyes.

He has always been the best husband, the best father she could ever have asked for. And he will be again. She believes it with every fiber of her being.

"Take me home," she whispers, but in his arms, she always has been and always will be home.


End file.
